


Dragon Priest, Snow Queen

by LadyoftheGeneral



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Frozen (2013)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Arranged Marriage, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Developing Relationship, Dovahzul, Dragons, F/M, First Time, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Neglect, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loss of Virginity, Maritial Spat, Married Life, Married Sex, Non-Canon Relationship, Period-Typical Sexism, Political Alliances, Politics, Realistic relationship, References to Depression, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Strangers to Lovers, Undead, War, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:57:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheGeneral/pseuds/LadyoftheGeneral
Summary: “We must find ourselves...an alliance.”It sounded absurd, and she knew it, even before they all looked at her with confusion and uncertainty. There were no alliances to be found, they’d looked. It had not even been a year since she had unintentionally frozen her entire kingdom, and Elsa still spent her days stricken with self-consciousness.“We must find ourselves an alliance,” she repeated, “A hero. Someone who can help us turn this tide.”Elsa's coronation-day disaster drew Arendelle to the attention of an unwelcome power that now threatens to wage war on the small kingdom. The Dominion wants to see her dead and her throne handed to a puppet they appoint, for she has magic to rival theirs. Salvation appears where she least expects it, from a strange and foreign country that is the subject of horror stories in Arendelle and has not been heard from in years. Elsa will make whatever alliances she needs to to save her people, but will she find more than just support in the arms of the most dangerous Dragon Priest of all?





	1. Strange Correspondences

 

      The people saw their future, in the dry winds that blew down from the eastern mountains, the way the animals seemed so jittery, the strange charge that permeated the air. They saw their fate and they faced it courageously. They farmed and reaped the products of their labors, made weapons, traded for what they didn't have, helped their neighbors, prepared their homes, and barricaded their towns—fearlessly. No one fled, no one left—no one even seemed to really care. No one spoke of surrender or that fate that was to be theirs when they refused. Life went on, and though the people danced and the people played, their queen could not fear for them enough.

      All her days seemed consumed with fear. It was much like living with her concealed powers, Elsa reflected, only now she did not fear herself and what she might do, but she feared for her people, and what she would not be _able_ to do. Her job was to protect them, but what on earth could she do to defend against an entire, massive army? An army equipped with magic, from the lowliest foot soldiers to the highest-ranking commander. To surrender was to watch her people enslaved, her sister torn from her side, her country razed, and quite possibly her own life extinguished. To the citizens of Arendelle and its outlying territories, war meant nothing, but to Elsa the horizon was full of dark thunderheads of terror that she could not escape.

      The men in her council told stories of the Dominion when they thought she couldn't hear. They meant no disrespect to her, but she was still young, and the weight of the impending threat weighed on her so heavily they couldn't bear to burden her further. After all, it had hardly been six months since she had accidentally frozen the country at her own coronation, and plunged the land into a week-long winter that would never have ended if it hadn’t been for Anna. Training your whole life to take the throne only went so far, and she had limited experience with foreign policy, to say nothing of basic human interactions. But they couldn't help but whisper. Of how the Dominion and the races that shared their lands had hated each other for centuries, in those strange northern lands where they supposedly came from. How the Dominion had conquered those native lands and enslaved most of the other native races, how they had been furious at their neighbors once again for deigning to worship a man-made god. How they had magic, and detested anyone who used magic who was not ‘like them’, whatever that meant. How all of them had powers well beyond the scope of imagination, and Elsa was the only one in Arendelle or any of the nearby countries who could even wield magic—up until Elsa’s coronation disaster, magic had been purely a fairytale to Arendelle and all its neighbors, who sat isolated from the large countries like the Summerset Isles the Dominion hailed from. Of how many of these neighbors had already fallen before the Dominion, or sided with them to save themselves.

      And in Elsa's mind, she was to blame. She had drawn their attention to her country with her accidental eternal winter, this terrible Dominion that had never once glanced Arendelle’s way before, and to them she was not only ‘unlike them’ and wielding magic—an affront and an abomination—but she was a _woman_ . If Arendelle fell, it would all be her fault, and reasoning that the Dominion would have come sooner or later helped little. Because all she could think was that were it not for her, they _would_ have come _later_.

      Time and time again she tried to imagine a way to save Arendelle. Both the Duke of Weselton, which was on tentative terms with them, and Hans' father, the King of the Southern Isles, had offered to stand with Arendelle against the Dominion, at the price of Anna's hand in marriage and Elsa's abdication. If Elsa had to step down to save Arendelle, so be it, but she would not sacrifice her little sister or rip her away from her happiness. Weselton had an Earl who was older than the Duke and had buried three wives already, and there was no way in hell she was letting Anna near anyone even remotely related to Hans. She wasn’t even sure how that would work out; from what she had heard, all twelve of Hans’s brothers already had wives, and Hans had been disowned.

      But wars had been won by the underdogs before, she tried to tell herself. The Hidden Folk’s prophecy about the eternal winter had come to pass thanks to Elsa herself—and Anna had saved them all. So surely, there would be some solution, somewhere.

      And she’d heard whispers of a solution. An entire nation had stood up to the Dominion and survived to tell the tale, according to rumor. Not that she knew much about them that _wasn’t_ rumor and conjecture, but that more than anything was what prompted Elsa to voice this idea to her council.

      “We must find ourselves...an alliance.”

      It sounded absurd, and she knew it, even before they all looked at her with confusion and uncertainty. There were no alliances to be found, they’d looked. It had not even been a year since she had unintentionally frozen her entire kingdom, and Elsa still spent her days stricken with self-consciousness. The gloves on her hands were a safety net now, although in retrospect, that's really all they'd ever been, a mental and not physical barrier to her powers. Anna didn't think she needed them. Elsa had removed the winter, and embraced her powers, she no longer had to hide—but Elsa herself disagreed. She couldn't admit, even to her own sister, that the gloves were no longer a symbol of her repression. Feeling the soft silk over her fingers was a reassurance, even though it had so long been a burden and curse, that she was still in charge. She did intend to wean herself off them, yes, but when she spent so much time distressed by the impending threat of war, the gloves provided an extra check on her magic. Strange that something she had once felt as a necessary but hated cage could be her comfort now.

      Right now, Elsa was fighting to keep her hands still, as they threatened to twist and knot as they always did when she was agitated. “We must find ourselves an alliance,” she repeated, “A hero. Someone who can help us turn this tide.” Ever used to the cold, her velvet and taffeta royal gown was uncomfortably warm and she was beginning to feel lightheaded, especially with the heavy felt cape. Trying to tell herself to keep it together was too much like her old unhelpful mantra and thinking of that just made everything worse.

      “A hero, Your Highness?” Her majordomo Kai questioned, somewhat confused.

      “Yes,” Elsa nodded, unwilling to back down now. “The Aldmeri Dominion isn't all-powerful. I know what you think of them and I also know you think I can't hear you, but you've said it yourselves; there's a country out there that's been invaded by them, pushed them out, and kept them out. If they can do that, why can't we? Just one battle won might be all we need. This country, this—” Here she fumbled over the odd name, a name that fit their world even less than ‘Aldmeria’ and ‘Thalmor’.  “‘Kaizel’ as they call it—perhaps if the Dominion sees we are with _them_ , and that _I_ am capable of defending my country and my people, well, it may at the very least buy us time.”

      “Your Majesty," Commander Svansson interrupted, and everyone turned their attention to him. He was Captain of the Guards and Commander of the royal military and local militia, and he had been so since her father. He had always been most supportive of her, though before her coronation they had never spoken much. She was never certain if he was one of the ones her parents had entrusted with awareness of her powers, if any at all. “Kaizel is a land of magic, from what little we even know of it. One can only assume there were hundreds of sorcerers there to fight the Dominion when they arrived. Here, there's only you. Our Queen. If we lose you, we fall.”

      “But we'll fall anyway if I don't _do_ something!” Elsa cried desperately, and light snow began to drift around her. Her advisors glanced at the flakes nervously.

      “My Queen,” Councilor Jorgen interrupted, raising his shaking hand. Jorgen was a very, very old man, rickety, frail—he'd been on the royal council since Elsa's grandfather had been King, and he had cared for Elsa—well, mostly Anna—and run the country as regent in the wake of their parents' death. His hands shook and so did most of his body, and his eyes glistened nervously—not from fear of Elsa, but from something else.

      All eyes turned to him.

      “You, and that goes for all of you menfolk as well, don't know what Kaizel is." Jorgen said in his stuttery voice, looking around the table. “Back in my day, and yes I know that day was long ago, it had a very different name. And it was much better known than it is now...which is to say, it was still next to unheard of. What we know now about it...could fill a teaspoon.” He frowned. “It is....a dark land. Of much...dark magic. And the reason...the reason the name changed is the reason it was able to stand up to Aldmeria....and survive.”

      A few of the council members looked at each other, frowning, some scoffed, and Elsa's heart fluttered. What was it that Jorgen was trying to say?

      “What do you mean, Sir Jorgen?” Councilor Olsen asked gently, placing a hand on Jorgen’s shoulder. “We do know about it. It’s a cold land, lots of mountains and snow and ice, very large, located far north of here and bordered by something called the Summerset Isles, which are an archipelago not unlike the Southern Isles—”

      “And that’s all you can offer, isn’t it?” Jorgen retorted. “A cursory overview of the geography. Who here has seen it in person? Set foot on its icy shores?”

      Silence greeted him, and he slowly nodded his head. Elsa was struck with the sudden notion that he reminded her a little of a tortoise, old and plodding, in an endearing and grandfatherly way. But his expression was worrying her.

      “Admittedly,” she said, “We don’t know much about Kaizel, I agree. But it’s worth a shot. We can send a small delegation to its near shore, and offer to treatise—”

      “The reason Kaizel kept out the Dominion,” Jorgen interrupted, and Elsa fell silent, rather surprised he had interrupted his queen—a sentiment clearly shared among the other council members, even if it didn’t bother Elsa— “Is because....they had a very...powerful ally. Or rather, their leaders. It all amounts to the same thing, for their leaders were _not_ originally their leaders. There was more than one civil war within a few years in that land. But you don’t know who their leaders are, do you? Do any of you?”

      “They have more than one? Is Kaizel not a kingdom?” A man named Thomas asked. “A dark, mysterious kingdom to be sure, but the ruling family...surely they can be reasoned with.”

      “There is no ruling family,” Jorgen retorted, surprisingly sharply. “Kaizel is ruled by a group of unrelated men. Many, many years ago, Aldmeria invaded Kaizel. And then...the dragons returned.”

      Elsa's breath caught. _Dragons?_ What sort of nonsense was Jorgen spouting? That simply couldn’t be. Dragons were just a myth—right?

      “Dragons? Come off it,” another councilor scoffed. Everyone else looked like Jorgen had suddenly gone senile; many looked like they’d been expecting that to happen. But the old man’s face was deeply serious.

      He continued as if he hadn't heard the other man. “Dragons. But they weren’t alone. There were men—sorcerers, if memory serves. There are said....there are supposed to be eight, I think. And they’ve kept all visitors out, and kept much to themselves, no trading, no communication, ever since. Hundreds of years, really. No one knows what goes on inside the kingdom. But before them....back when humans still ruled it....Kaizel, or rather _Keizaal_ , used to be called _Sky’s Rim_."

      Elsa's blood ran cold.

 _Sky’s Rim_ . The name was an old one and most people didn't like to talk about it. The kingdom was said to be real, but no one could confirm that, and rumors were constantly abounding about how if it _did_ exist, its history involved necromancy, dark magic, fell creatures—even undead kings. But Elsa had never believed them—why would she? It sounded like a fairytale, like the stories you tell your children to make sure they don’t wander away from home when playing. No one could say _where_ Sky’s Rim was, or _when_ exactly it had existed, if it _still_ existed, whether it really had magic, and all of the stories about it were so far-fetched. Undead but living kings, able to _sing_ down storms? Elsa couldn’t begin to explain her own powers, and was inclined to believe in magic, naturally, but she had never believed in Sky’s Rim, or Skyrim as it was sometimes referred to. The lack of definitive proof that it was even a real place had furthered her disbelief.

      “That’s impossible,” Councilor Willhelm said. “That place is a myth. Kaizel is real.”

      “Kaizel is Sky’s Rim, they are one and the same,” Jorgen replied. “Why do you think there are so many rumors about Sky’s Rim? All set in the past? Because the name changed. And the rulers closed the borders much like our own esteemed King and Queen did, may they rest in peace. It’s ruled by powerful men. I’m sure you know the legends….they call themselves Dragon Priests. Sorcerers. Liches. I confess I don’t know much about what they truly are. But I can tell you one thing for certain...they are very real, and their leader's name is Glorious. _Morokei_.”

 

~*~

  
  


      There was one conversation that Elsa had always remembered from her parents arguing, something that had stuck in her mind forever. They had realized she was there and listening too late, and no matter how they had apologized and reassured her they would never do what they had said, she had never been able to look at them the same way.

_"This is the third time this month she's tried to hurt herself."_

_"She was upset. She was just reacting to hurting Anna."_

_"Exactly! Iduna, both our daughters could wind up dead tomorrow morning! Elsa has spent the past two years hiding from Anna, terrified of herself, terrified of us, terrified of her sister, and I never wanted_ that _for her! But Anna is Anna, there's no keeping her away. We've_ tried _. We've had to take her to the trolls and wipe her memory of Elsa's magic again_ twice _now, and each time Elsa gets more distraught. She attempted to freeze herself solid yesterday. The day before that she wouldn’t even let us_ touch _her, she was panicking and now she’s trying to repress her emotions? How is this good for_ either _of them? Elsa hates herself. She can't stand being around other people because she lives in fear of herself all the time._ I _don't want that,_ you _don't want that, but there's nothing_ we _can do, Iduna, we have no idea how to help her!" Elsa had rarely heard her father sound so upset, so emotional, but hearing his voice crack now made this all the more real and made her feel all the more horrible for being the cause of this pain._

 _“_ You _were the one who wanted to separate them,” Iduna said, almost shakily. “_ I _never wanted that for them.”_

 _“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Iduna, don’t start throwing blame around, you know this isn’t what I wanted. Right now we need to figure out what to_ do _.”_

_“There are...rumors. Of men with magic like hers, in a faraway land. Magic...that goes beyond the Hidden Folk’s. Pabbie could not take her powers like she asked, but—maybe. Just maybe. We could summon one of them.” Iduna's voice was faint and timid. “I've heard whispers of a man, a sorcerer, who might be powerful enough to control Elsa's powers.”_

_The suggestion left nothing but silence in its wake for far too long. Elsa couldn't see her father's face, but she could tell from the silence he didn't like this idea._

_“A sorcerer? You must be joking.”_

_“Your daughter shoots ice from her hands, but you don’t believe in magic, Agnarr? In sorcerers and sorcery?”_

_“I…” Her father sighed._

_“Agnarr. Be reasonable. You really think she’s the_ only _one of her kind?”_

_After a long moment of silence, her father sighed again. “Where does this sorcerer live?" He asked finally._

_“He lives in a land called...Keizaal.”_

_“Kaizel? It’s mostly barren tundra. Are you sure?”_

_“Yes. It’s...the Hidden Folk talk about it often. It isn’t barren, just…”_

_“Just what, Iduna?”_

_“Skyrim. It’s Skyrim.”_

_Elsa heard her father suck in a sharp breath, and reflexively drew her own. The strange name meant nothing to her, and it didn’t sound like a country, or even a real word._

_“You’re joking.”_

_“I’m not. The man I heard of...he lives in Skyrim...and his name...his name is Morokei."_

_The silence that followed this was terrifying._

_"A Dragon Priest?" he said at last. "You want to summon a_ **_Dragon Priest_ ** _?!" It was the first time Elsa had ever truly heard her father yell at her mother, and she cringed just as Queen Iduna did._

_The king backed away. "I'm sorry. Iduna, I’m sorry, I didn't mean to yell. But...I just...."_

_"They're exceptionally powerful," Iduna whispered. "Especially Morokei."_

_"_ **_No_ ** _, Iduna! My God, until just—_ ** _now_** _—I didn’t even know they were_ real _!"_

_“Then how do you know it won’t work?” Iduna exclaimed._

_“Because I’ve heard the stories, Iduna, God, I always thought they were myths and now—_ Morokei _—I’ve heard what happened in Skyrim and what those_ **_things_ ** _are capable of! I’ve heard what_ he _is capable of! And if they’re not just stories, if they’re true—”_

_“Exactly! They say he can do anything. That...that he uses ice and snow as a weapon, just like Elsa, and that isn’t even his strongest power. He could...take away her powers. Like she asked of Pabbie. Like she keeps asking."_

_"You want to let that monster near our little girl?! It was a_ **_slaughter_** _, Iduna, it was a_ **_genocide_** _, and if Skyrim is_ real _that means that that story really_ happened! _And it means that_ **_thing_ ** _exists_ in our reality! **_No_** _. I don't care what happens, we are never doing that to her. Nor are we ever bringing this up again."_

 _"Well, I don't particularly want it either, Agnarr, but I don't want to lose my children! Anna could have died that night, and she keeps getting scraped up trying to pry into why Elsa’s shut the door on her! Elsa is getting more and more distraught—who knows what she'll do! Sometimes I start to feel like we have no choice!_ I _didn’t want to separate them,_ **I** _wanted to find another way, but we’ve made our bed, and this is where we lie—what else can we_ **_do_** _, Agnarr?!"_

_It was then that they noticed Elsa standing there, wide-eyed and fearful. It was then that they became parents again, and not two scared strangers staring at each other across a great divide...a divide she had caused._

_They promised her it would never happen. They would never let any Dragon Priest or sorcerer near her. She didn’t even know what that was, but she knew it was bad, and she knew the name Morokei, that strange and rough, guttural name, meant danger. In time, she managed to push the memory to the back of her mind, like so many things in her life. Like all the wounds both real and in her soul. Like watching Anna tumble to the ground, lie prone in her arms. Like watching the last breath leave her sister’s body as she froze to ice taking the blow meant for Elsa._

_But the damage was done._

      And the memory remained.

      Elsa's heart stammered and she took a step back, the snow coming down in earnest now.

      “Skyrim? _Morokei_ ? You mean...he's real? _It’s_ real?”

      “Real?” Kai frowned at her. The majordomo looked back at Jorgen, then back at Elsa. “What do you mean, ‘he's real’? You’ve heard of this person before?”

      Elsa steeled herself, even though her hands were clenching the chair behind her so tightly her knuckles were numb.

      “My parents mentioned him.” Elsa said. “I just remembered it. They were discussing—this.” She gestured to the snow and it went away. “I was young, so I believed I was the only one with magic. I didn't believe it when they mentioned a sorcerer who could take away my powers, and I was too young at the time to have ever heard the stories of...Skyrim.”

      “Your parents considered taking your powers?” Kai demanded, frowning at her. While some people in Arendelle were not fond of Elsa, or rather her magic, her council at the very least was loyal to her, especially Kai and Svansson, and Jorgen.

      “No,” Elsa defended them. “They just mentioned Morokei. And...Skyrim. My mother was once a northern nomad, she knew the legends. My father....”

      “He wouldn’t have known them,” Svansson agreed. He had grown up with Agnarr, after all.

      “I don't like that idea.” Olsen said. “A sorcerer that powerful seems dangerous. And what's this about dragons? That’s just a fairytale.”

      “Dragon Priests. Sounds like a cult.” Councilor Andersen said.

      “It is,” Jorgen replied. “They are men with extreme...powers....who worship the Dragons. There are not many dragons left, as far as I know. But enough to rout Aldmeria, and sufficiently scare them. According to legends...these ancient men have been in Skyrim since time began, and rose from the dead over a hundred years ago.”

      At this, there were exclamations of shock and horror among the other men. Elsa merely sat there, face pale as porcelain.

      “Come off it.”

      “This has been getting progressively more ridiculous and now _—_ ”

      “Preposterous. _Impossible_.”

      Jorgen shook his head, as though disappointed they weren’t immediately accepting of so wild a story. “They are immortal....unkillable...and Morokei is the strongest.”

      “The most _dangerous_ ,” Hagge, one of the ones whose first name she could never remember, said stoutly, a sentiment the rest of the council seemed to agree with. Elsa felt slightly nauseous. “I know next to nothing about Sky’s Rim and its monster kings, but I know enough of the stories, everyone’s told them around the campfire as a spooky tale at least once in their life. There’s nothing pretty or kind about the _things_ in that country. You say strongest, I say most likely to kill us all.”

      “The most likely to broker a deal with us,” Jorgen retorted. “He sent....he sent us this....a while ago.” Jorgen fished a piece of parchment out of his sleeve and handed it to Elsa. “It came to me, weeks ago, and before I could give it to you...it disappeared. I have been searching for it, though I did not want to mention it until I found it—and lo and behold...it appeared again by my bedside table this morning, without warning. I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you regardless...but. You mentioned an alliance, and you mentioned Kaizel today, my Queen. I do not think this was coincidence. For you, Your Majesty.”

      With trembling fingers Elsa took the letter, willing herself with everything she had not to freeze it through her gloves. It was starting to feel like her coronation all over again.

      The parchment was strange and yellowed with age, and seemed to be made more out of stiff cloth than paper or animal skin. It had an odd scale-like imprint on it too, and the seal was made of black wax, and depicted a rearing dragon head with strange runes inscribed in a circle around it. Before she could even go to break the seal, the wax went up in flames, and vanished, making her drop the letter in shock.

      “Open it,” Jorgen said in his frail voice.

      Elsa did.

 _Pruzah Sul, Queen Elsa_ , read an elegant script that seemed surprisingly flowery. _I congratulate you on your ascension to the throne, and apologize that this commendation comes so very late. I also offer my condolences for the death of your parents, whom I had the pleasure of knowing through a very brief correspondence._

      Her heart seized. So they _had_ contacted him. Oh god. This man—this thing—was _real_ . And he _knew_ about her. He knew Arendelle’s movements. How could it be coincidence she had chanced across a map that showed the edge of Kaizel just the other day and looked further into it in Arendelle’s records, and here a letter had just arrived from it?

 _I know Arendelle to be facing the threat of annihilation by the Dominion of Aldmeria, as Keizaal was many years ago,_ the letter continued. _It is in this spirit of kinship that I offer an alliance with our humble Sky’s Rim, to you. I ask for little in return. Skyrim is large but has few people, and Arendelle is small but has many. I believe together we could give the Dominion reason to turn back from Arendelle, if you would be willing to accept this offer and negotiate terms._

_I look forward to your response, whatever it may be._

_With highest regards,_

_Morokei, High Priest of Bromjunaar_

 

~*~

  


      Elsa tried to ignore how the pen was shaking in her hand, but after failing to write coherently three times, she put pen and paper both down and drew in a deep breath.

      “Relax,” she murmured, placing a hand over her heart both to encourage the beat to steady, and to calm the trembling of her fingers. “Don't be afraid. Relax. Don't be afraid.”

      After several moments of just standing there, repeating the words over and over until they just became individual blobs of sound with no meaning, she sat back down and took a deep breath. When she exhaled, it started to snow and frost covered the ground at her feet, but she let it. Allowing her emotions to manifest was sometimes a good thing, she had come to realize. It took them when they were crowding her in and put them outside of her, and like now, seeing her snow made her feel a little calmer. She could do this.

 _Lord Morokei_ , she penned, mulling the words over in her head. She spelled his name wrong the first time and, muttering, wiped it clear with frost and began again. Was it even a he? It had been signed ‘Priest’, that probably meant it was...wait, of course it was a he, her parents had said as much. Where was her brain right now? Was Lord an appropriate title? Should she have written Priest? Oh God, politics was complicated. _Thank you for..._ For what? For condolences? Yes, that was as good as any. _Your condolences, and your letter. I did not know you knew my parents; you will have to tell me about your experiences with them when you come to Arendelle—_ no, too informal. _In light of recent events, I do believe we ought to—_ again, no. It just sounded awkward. Sighing, Elsa wiped most of what she'd written off the page with the frost and started over again. _Lord Morokei, thank you for your condolences, and your letter. In light of recent events, I would like to invite you to Arendelle, in the interest of discussing an alliance. I look forward to your response._

_Sincerely,_

_Queen Elsa of Arendelle_

      It was only the third time she had signed her name as the Queen on a letter, and it gave her a feeling of mild unease now. She wished the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders, that her parents were still here, but she had a duty to her people and she would do it. Even if that meant making a deal with the devil.

      After several tries and several frustrated snow blasts, she successfully fashioned a small ice dragon and fastened the letter to its belly. It chirped and climbed onto her shoulder, and she smiled. She had already grown attached to it. Carrying it to the window, she patted its head and pushed open the heavy glass panes. “Carry this letter to Skyrim. Lord—erm, Dragon Priest?—Morokei, of Brom...yu-naar.” She instructed, doing her best with the strange names. “That’s in Kaizel. Keizaal. Skyrim. Be safe!” The dragon chirped again, then flew out the open window into the night.

      “Come back soon!” She called, hoping she'd see her little ice dragon again. It was hard not to get attached to the things she created. Sure, she could have sent an emissary, but something told her it might be better... _not_ to let anyone from her kingdom cross an ocean into a strange land that was apparently real, and really full of monsters.

      And now, to wait.

      Elsa paced around the room a few times before settling on signing some documents and getting as much work done as possible. It was late, and even though she was tired she knew she was going to have trouble sleeping, so there was no point spending time tossing and turning in bed when she could be productive. Idle hands were the devil’s workshop, and her mind when idle wasn’t somewhere she wanted to be. If she had to guess, it would probably take about a week for a reply to come...if one did at all.

      No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn’t really focus on anything that required her to write words. Her mind was far too full, running through all the stories she’d ever heard of Skyrim, and when she tried to write legislation it came out with odd words that didn’t belong, because they were going round and round in her head.

      Giving up on anything to do with writing, Elsa worked on plans and signing papers until the clock struck midnight down the hall, and she heard the low chime of the church bells from the heart of the city. She sighed and put her pen down, then stood and stretched, once, and walked to the window to look out at Arendelle.

      So many people whose very lives depended on her, and if she made the right choices or not. She’d practiced every single day to be queen, to hold that orb and scepter and make important decisions and laws, but she had never practiced….war.

 _You’re not at war yet,_ she reminded herself. _You may even avoid war entirely if this alliance goes through_. It was absolutely a gamble in the dark, a desperate Hail Mary, but desperate was what she was. Not that it would do good to be making desperate decisions. She had to remain logical, reasonable, thinking about the citizens of Arendelle first and foremost, and then about Anna, and then herself. Should they fortify what few defenses their kingdom had? Most of it was mountains. The coastal cities were all nestled in the arms of the fjords, enough that hopefully they would be able to make barricades and flotillas and armadas—

 _You’re overthinking,_ she thought. _Deep breaths. Relax_. _Work for a few more hours and then turn in for the night._

      When she turned around there was a large letter on her desk.

      Heart hammering, she approached cautiously, frost at her fingertips and ready to shoot. It was lying next to her aqua gloves, the yellowish, large parchment with the black seal, and when it didn't attack her upon her approach, she very carefully picked it up and opened it.

 

_Queen Elsa;_

_I am quite pleased you wish to discuss an alliance. If it suits you, I will arrive in Arendelle in three days’ time. You need not write a reply._

 

_Regards,_

_Lord Morokei_

 

      Elsa was left with her heart going a thousand miles an hour, terrified. How had he sent her a response? She had literally just sent her messenger to him hours ago! Kaizel was days away! Was he watching her? For a moment, she was honestly convinced she was going to faint and sat down very quickly, for once not trying to control her emotions. Frost swept out over the floor in graceful fractals, and ice crept up the already-frosted chair legs and arms and created spikes around her feet. Snow began to swirl aimlessly in various directions as she stared at the letter. _Three days? Need not write a reply?_ What the hell was she dealing with?

      After a long time—too long—the snow went away, and the frost retreated from where it had gone crazy over the carpet, leaving a faint silver shimmer in the weave of the rug, and unfreezing her desk chair. Trying not to slump over her desk in defeat and fear, Elsa looked up at the high rafters of the ceiling. “Three days time?” She whispered. “How is that even possible? How did he do...this?”

      Embarrassed for no real reason at all, she nodded, quickly. “Yes,” she said aloud, trying to direct her thoughts and her voice to this terrifying Dragon Priest. “Three days...is suitable.”

      It was kind of stupid, talking to the air. Sighing, she released her hair from its bun and combed her fingers through the braid to unravel it. She removed the frost and the ice, folded up her paper and put the pen and inkwell neatly away, pushed her chair in, and left the room, hands once again knotting at her stomach as she walked.

      Her feet did not carry her to her own room, however, but to Anna's. She hadn't slept in what felt like far too long, and even though her body and mind were exhausted, something about lying in that great empty room alone was unpleasant at the least and frightening at the worst. Her heart was already going far too fast.

      She knocked on the door, trying dearly not to think of all the times Anna had knocked on hers. “Anna?” _It would serve me right if you didn't open it._

      But Anna did. Anna always did. And she always knew when Elsa was upset—like now. “Elsa?” She asked, frowning at the expression on her sister's face. “What's wrong?”

      “Can I....can we hang out? Like we used to?” Elsa started nervously knitting her fingers, faster and faster, but then Anna reached out and took her hands.

      “Always,” Anna said gently.

      Elsa walked into Anna's room and her sister closed the door behind them, then flounced past the young queen to sit on the bed, patting the mattress next to her. Elsa came and sat, and Anna immediately scooted back to cross her legs and begin braiding Elsa's hair.

      Anna's room hadn't changed since the time they had shared it together; the walls were still pink with the white baseboard moulding and deco trim, carefully-done rosemaling in rosy gray, olive green and dark maroon decorating each stripe around the room. The curtains had recently had to be removed, as Anna had accidentally ripped them, and the bar they hung from, off the windows, and the dark blue of the night sky shimmered into the room, the Northern Lights throwing greens and blues and violets around to mingle with the candlelight. Elsa sighed.

      “Everything okay?” Anna asked, folding strand over strand and combing Elsa's bangs back into the braid to keep them out of her face. “You don't look so good. I mean, not that you look bad. But you don't exactly look happy. Are you happy?”

      “I don't know, Anna…” Elsa shook her head, prompting Anna to clear her throat in an indication of disapproval, and re-center the braid. “I'm just....afraid. All the time, I'm afraid.”

      Anna paused in her braiding to peer over Elsa's shoulder, concern in her aqua eyes. “Of your powers? I thought you...you know, got used to them. ‘Love will thaw’ and all that.” She looked down and frowned at the gloves. “I thought you didn't need _those_ anymore.”

      “I don't. Not really.” Elsa pulled the soft gloves off and looked down at the pale sage-green fabric, running her thumb over the embroidered crocus design by the trim. Her eyes flickered. “Remember how Mama had those white gloves that belonged to grandma? How I always, always wanted to wear them, but she was afraid that between the two of us, they'd get ruined? After I....after I hit you with my powers, and I locked myself away...Papa gave them to me.” She chuckled at the memory, despite the pang of pain in her chest. “I guess he and Mama figured I wasn't going to destroy them now. They were...a safety net. I didn't want to look at the hands that had nearly killed you.”

      A tear slid down her soft, pale cheek and landed on the fabric, and she hurriedly wiped it away before it could soak in to the weave and stain the soft cotton-silk mix. She blinked hurriedly, to avoid letting Anna see her cry.

      “That wasn't fair to you,” Anna muttered, pausing once again to reach around her sister's side and hold her hand, squeezing just a little too tightly—as Anna of course was wont to do. “They should have taught you to love your powers, not hate them.”

      “Yes, I know. But they did their best.” Elsa let Anna hold her hand for a few seconds more, then gently pulled her fingers away and folded the gloves into her lap. “They became my cage, though, you're right. That's why I freaked out when you brought them back up to me on the mountain. But now...I kind of feel like they're reassuring me. They help me feel....in control.”

      Anna patted Elsa's head as she continued the fishtail braid. “I'm of the belief that you don't need them. But if they make you feel safer or whatever, then obviously I'm not going to complain until you take them off. But really, Elsa, you can't blame yourself for what happened when we were kids. You told me to stop running, and I didn't. Hey. Look at me. Quit crying. I don't _blame_ you.”

      “I know, I know.” Elsa waved her off. “I just...I'm always afraid nowadays. Of myself. Of my powers. Of...of being queen. I tried to hold out for so _long_...I didn't want to be queen. I definitely wasn't ready at only 21. That's why I insisted they put off the big ceremony, until I basically just couldn't insist on putting it off any longer. I mean, I turned 21 in December and I was coronated until July.” She rubbed her temples. “God, Mama and Papa made this look so much easier than it actually is.”

      “You're doing a great job as queen,” Anna reassured her, finishing the braid and pulling a ribbon from the messy tangle on her bedside table to secure it. She tossed it over Elsa's shoulder and started massaging her sister's shoulders. When the sisters were young, Elsa had always had to do Anna's hair, as she was too young to do it herself and too impatient to learn. When they had been separated, and Elsa had then kept that separation going, Anna had had to learn to braid her own hair, and she had become quite talented at it—mainly because it was the only way to keep that unruly mane out of her face. Like their grandmother Sabine, Anna had thick, wavy hair that got progressively curlier as it went down her head, and it was constantly standing up in crazy directions if she left it upbraided. One of Elsa's favorite things to do was have Anna braid her hair—it was a pleasant role-reversal of their childhood, and one that allowed Anna to do something with her hands and thus focus on the conversation without having to move around constantly.

      “Am I?” Elsa asked the ceiling as Anna massaged the tense muscles in her shoulders.

      “Heck yeah! Just imagine what an awful mess _I'd_ be making if _I_ were queen.”

Elsa sighed again and looked back at her hands resting in her lap. “The Dominion sent us another offer.”

      “Another? Geez, can't they take a hint? What did they want this time?”

      “They wanted our surrender. Again. This time it came with some ludicrous offer of a marriage between Arendelle and the kingdom of Weselton in exchange for the Dominion NOT obliterating our entire country,” Elsa muttered.

      “Marriage? Eeuw. I would never let you marry the slimy king of that slimy country.” Anna said.

      Elsa did not tell her the enemy countries were demanding Anna's hand and Elsa's head. “Well, we got another offer.”

      “Let me guess.” There was a faint prick of fury in Anna's voice, which was already full of thinly veiled hatred. “ _The Southern Isles._ Those lying, scummy _asses_  have the _nerve_ to make offers to us after what Hans—“

      “Actually,” Elsa interrupted, laying a hand on Anna's to calm her, “Not the Southern Isles.”

      “No? Then who?” Anna blinked and shuffled around so she was facing her sister, eyes wide and curious in the purple darkness of the room. The Northern Lights streaked indigos and violets and a dash of pale rose across her freckled face and left the rest in darkness, drawing out her features and making her sea-blue eyes pools of murky ink instead. Elsa was always so very proud of what a pretty young woman her awkward, gangly sister had managed to become—though Anna was still perfectly awkward and gangly even now.

      Elsa inhaled deeply, breathed out, and set her jaw. “Kaizel.”

      “Gesundheit.”

      Elsa rolled her eyes. “Kaizel. Large, snowy land to the north? It’s right by the Dominion’s home island.”

      “Oh, right, that Kaizel. The name makes me think of noodles. What of it? _They_ offered us an alliance?” Anna frowned. “No one's heard anything from _them_ in....well, in ages. They're...don't they keep to themselves? Hang on, isn't most of their land uninhabited?”

      “It is,” Elsa hedged. “But it’s big enough, and the cities that _are_ inhabited moderate enough, to be a fairly formidable ally. That, and they have...other advantages.”

      “Like…?” Anna pressed.

      “Skyrim, Anna. Kaizel is Skyrim.”

      Anna stiffened, and her eyes darkened, brow bunching in concern and a little fear. “Whoa. Skyrim? You can’t be serious. It’s a fairytale.”

      “No, no, it’s very much real.”

      Anna was silent for a long moment. “So Kaizel...that’s...Skyrim? That’s _actually_ the place they tell stories about? Jeez, even Kaizel is wild, nevermind the stories about _Skyrim_.”

      Elsa nodded. “They usually keep to themselves. But the Dominion was really interested in them a few years ago. There was apparently a group of humans who took over and unified that whole area, and then the Dominion barged in. But Skyrim overthrew them, forced the Dominion out, and kept them out.” There was excitement in her voice, barely concealed by her even, ever-steady tone, but there was also a thin layer of nervousness. Of fear. “They offered to help us.”

      “That's...amazing.” The younger princess did not seem as thrilled as Elsa had hoped she would be. Anna's excitement was to be her validation for agreeing to negotiate with Skyrim. This was more like trepidation.

      She merely nodded. “It is. I...have already contacted them, actually. One of their leaders is arriving in three days’ time to discuss an alliance.” The words sounded very strange on her tongue.

      “Three days? That's fast, isn’t Kaizel—Skyrim—whatever—like a good week away?” She paused. “Hang on, hang on. How could the leader possibly be coming in just three days? Have you been in correspondence for a while then?” Though she didn’t say it, Elsa could hear the small bit of hurt in her sister’s voice. _And you didn’t tell me?_ Many of the councilors felt Anna had no business involving herself in the politics of the country, but Anna was surprisingly intuitive and fast-thinking for someone who had engaged herself to a man within the first five hours of knowing him.

      “No, actually,” Elsa replied. Some frost formed under the bed. “I...sent the letter just now…and when I turned around, there was the response.”

      “ _What?_ ” Anna sat up immediately, eyes wide. “Come on, seriously.”

      “I _am_ being serious. Remember the legends about Skyrim. Does it really surprise you that he answered in the space of half an hour, despite being an entire continent away?”

      Anna shook her head and inhaled deeply. “Elsa, that’s _crazy_.”

      “Anna, I shoot _ice_ from my hands and when I sneeze I make tiny snowmen.”

      “Listen, you gotta draw the line in the sand somewhere, Elsa.”

      “And teleporting letters is where you draw it?” Elsa pinched her cheek.

      Anna chuckled in spite of herself. “Okay. I’ll…believe it. What’s the deal with them, then? Who are their leaders?” She leaned back on her hands just a little, to better see her sister's face. Elsa's back was to the window and the better part of her features were masked in blue shadow, the faintest glimmer of pale violet highlighting her cheekbone and eyelid and the delicate sweep of her hair. “I'm not caught up on my Skyrim lore. And I probably know less about Kaizel. I just know what I've heard from the councilors and such about it in passing.”

      At this query, Elsa started to wring her hands again. “Well...there are supposedly eight, but the one coming in three days is supposed to be one of the most powerful...his name is Morokei.”

      At this, Anna did balk. “Wait. Morokei? That name sounds familiar...why?”

      “I’ve mentioned him before,” Elsa said quietly, refusing to meet her eyes.

      Anna sat upright. “Wait. The one you said that...Mom and Dad considered taking you to? To get rid of your powers?”

      “They didn't want to _get rid_ of my powers,” Elsa chided, not sure who exactly she was chiding and who she was defending. “Just…”

      “Control them. Control _you_.” Anna's gaze was hard and Elsa once again found herself surprised at the resentment Anna seemed to harbor towards their parents, when it was Elsa who had frozen her out and ignored her for almost 20 years. Was all of it just on Elsa's behalf? Or did Anna in part blame them for her isolation and lonely life?

      She just shrugged. “Well, neither one seemed very fond of the idea—”

      “But they considered it.”

      “Anna, they were afraid,” Elsa whispered.

      “They had no business being afraid of their own daughter!” Anna snapped. “They treated you like a _monster_. No wonder you stayed away from me. They made you think you were evil!”

      “ _Anna_ ,” Elsa said sharply.

      The younger sighed. “Right. Sorry. I know they...tried.” She drew her knees to her chest and leaned her chin on them, rocking back and forth for a moment with her dark eyes brooding and lost to this world, before looking back to Elsa. “So you're actually going to talk to Morokei? Even after....that?”

      “Yes, I have to.”

      “No, you don't.” Anna uncurled to grasp her shoulders. “Look, Elsa, nothing says you have to _do_ anything. If you—”

      “Anna,” Elsa raised her hands to gently brush Anna's away. “I _do_ have to. It's my duty, as queen, to my people. If Morokei can....save us? Then yes, we must make an alliance with him. With Skyrim.”

      “Morokei is a him? Hmm,” Anna said, and Elsa laughed, knowing that had been Anna's exact intention and grateful for it.

      “What would I do without you,” she teased.

      “Probably become a zombie incapable of performing basic human functions,” Anna teased back, then rolled off the bed and flounced over to her wardrobe to pull out her nightgown. “Do you...want to just sleep here? Like when we were little?”

      Elsa beamed and let Anna toss her another nightgown. “Yes, I would love that. Thank you, Anna.”

      The two sisters curled up next to each other under the covers, Elsa lying on her side with her legs tucked neatly under her and Anna sprawled in three different directions, and the last thought Elsa registered before she drifted away into sleep was how pretty the sky was tonight.

 

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Pruzah Sul_ \- Good Day
> 
> I know, I know, this is probably the strangest thing you've ever read.   
> Believe me, it gets stranger. 
> 
> For a long time the working title was "Strange Magic, Stranger Love" for a _reason_


	2. Strange Meetings

 

     Three days later, the morning light found Elsa nervously putting on her royal gown. Though she technically had servants to do this for her, Anna helped her lace up the cool, less-restrictive ice corset she had fashioned—she was already so nervous, she didn't need to pass out from overheating in a regular corset—and slide the velvet and cotton dress over her head. The fabric of the bodice was heavy, and the skirt was only marginally lighter, and she mentally made a note to have her tailor remake the dress in something stretchier and certainly more breathable. It’s not like it was a family heirloom—Elsa hadn’t been willing to wear their grandmother Sabine’s coronation gown, it was too heavy….and too fancy. Good thing, too, or it would have been destroyed on the North Mountain like Elsa’s original coronation dress. Actually, she probably wouldn’t even have made it up the mountain in that thing. It was a massive ensemble of velvet, felt, and ermine, and Elsa couldn’t imagine having tried to run away in _that_.

     Anna nearly fell over when she tried to bring the long felt cape to her sister and tripped on the hem, and Elsa paused for a moment of indecision before taking her green gloves and pulling them on, rolling her eyes at Anna's tongue-cluck of disapproval. “Anna, I told you.”

     “I know. I just think that you'd be perfectly fine without them. You're strong enough not to need them,” she said, squeezing her sister's hand before going back to putting up Elsa's hair in the french twist the young queen was fond of. “Hey. I wonder what this 'Morokei' looks like.”

     “Please don't scare him away within the first few minutes,” Elsa managed.

     “Pish posh, I would never.” Anna dropped the bobby pins and cursed. Elsa fashioned two new ones from ice for her. “Is there supposed to be a ribbon woven into your bun?”

     “It doesn't matter.”

     “Okay, because this looks really nice the way it is and I don't feel like undoing it to stuff a ribbon in. Here.” She handed Elsa her crown and smiled blithely when her sister put it on.

     “How do I look?” Elsa asked.

     “Like a queen, obviously. And beautiful. Very much beautiful.” Anna grinned. “I have to go get ready myself. And help Kristoff figure out what he's going to wear. He'd never had to dress quite this formally before. What about Olaf?”

     Elsa chuckled. “Olaf is fine the way he is. I think he's outside playing with Sven anyway.” Her expression darkened faintly. “Actually...it may be a good idea if we kept him and Sven...out. I don’t know anything about this...Dragon Priest...and I don’t want to make a terrible first impression with poor decorum.”

     Anna was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, giving Elsa a reassuring smile. “I’ve got you. I’ll ask Gerda to keep them occupied.”

     “Okay, good. One less person to worry about. Snow-person.” Elsa exhaled.

     “Yep! And Kristoff will behave, I promise, I even made him take a shower.” Anna scampered out of the room, her light green bloomers from the previous day still on under her nightgown. “Okay. Should I meet you in the throne room?”

     “Yes,” Elsa called down the hall, gathering her cape in one arm so she didn't have to drag it the entire way. She heard Anna trip again as she started to make her way down the stairs and couldn't help a small chuckle.

     Oh, but she was nervous. She was about to meet one of the sorcerer-kings of _Skyrim_ , a land that for the longest time was the kind of wild legend men told drunken bar tales about, a land that even as Kaizel, most people didn't like to talk about. Was this really the right decision, to make an alliance with them?

 _You're not jumping into anything just yet, Elsa_ , she reminded herself as she descended the stairs and headed to the throne room, nodding to the servants who stopped to bow to her as she passed. That had become second nature; perhaps she was finally starting to become a real queen. _You're just discussing the possibilities of an alliance. No more. If the terms aren't to your liking, you aren't_ obligated _in any way to agree to a binding contract._ The young queen smiled and thanked the two male servants who pulled open the doors for her, and when she reached her throne, most of her council had already gathered around her. Jorgen was not present.

     “Is Jorgen all right?” She asked.

     Kai shook his head with a sigh. “I'm afraid not, Queen Elsa. He was stricken with pains last night. He's in bed, being tended to by his wife now.”

     Elsa's heart clenched. “Oh no. Poor Jorgen. Has the court physician gone to see him?”

     “Yes, my Queen. And unfortunately it doesn't look good. His heart has been acting up again.”

     Elsa tried not to groan. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it if Jorgen died. He had for so long been one of the few constant figures in her life. Like Kai and Svansson, he had always been confident in her and had never seemed to balk at her powers, leading her to believe he was one of the few her father had continued to confide in about her abilities, even after the king and queen had reduced the staff and the trolls had taken all memory of her magic away from the town and citizens. “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

     Deep inside she was full of unease. Did Jorgen's sudden ailment have anything to do with the fact that Morokei's letter had shown itself to him first? She'd heard rumors from the servants, who somehow always knew what was going on in the castle, that the Dragon Priests could suck youth and life away without even touching you, and though she had scoffed at the notion then, it suddenly seemed to have credence.

 _Don't be ridiculous_ , she hissed to herself, sitting up a bit straighter on her throne. _He's old. This has been a long time in coming._

     Anna came running into the room at that moment, then spun around and hopped back to where she'd lost her shoe, awkwardly hopping back towards the throne as she put it back on her foot. Kai chuckled, and some of the councilors sighed, but Elsa had rarely been more glad to see her silly little sister. Anna was wearing her royal gown, and she looked just as pretty as she had the night of Elsa's coronation. “I am _not_ made for heels, let me just say that.”

     Elsa chuckled.

     Kristoff came in next, dressed in a vest and a nice pair of trousers. He looked a bit nervous and uncomfortable in such starched, fresh clothes, but Elsa's smile broadened as they took their places alongside her throne, and her councilors stepped off the dais as well.

     “So, when exactly is Morokei coming?” Anna asked.

     “I....don't actually know,” Elsa admitted. “He only said....'three days'.”

     “Nice of him, to provide an exact time,” Nils muttered, and Elsa bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snorting.

     “I still don't think this is a good idea, trusting someone from _Skyrim_ ,” Leif said, shuddering. “There are rumors about that land and _none_ of them are good. None of the rumors about _Kaizel_ are good either. Have you heard the servants gossiping? Somehow, they already know, and they’ve been telling all sorts of wild stories—”

     “The Queen has made her decision,” Svansson said somewhat testily.

     “It's all right,” Elsa interrupted before they could start arguing. She was beginning to worry. She didn't even know _how_ he was arriving, much less when. “I'm sure Skyrim's lords would understand if we chose not enter an agreement with them.”

     “I don't think we have much of a choice,” another councilor muttered.

     “Or if they’ll _give_ us a choice,” Nils muttered back. “That _thing_ wants something from us, mark my words.”

     Anna and Elsa both frowned at this, and both looked so much like their mother than Kai and Svansson had to chuckle.

     “When Morokei comes—” Elsa began.

     “ELSA!” Anna exclaimed.

     In the center of the hall, a giant ball of purple fire had suddenly appeared without any warning whatsoever. The flames spun in rings that twisted and warped the air around a strange black center that glowed blue with an odd sucking noise, expanded, and then switched direction to form a giant explosion of dark violet fire with no restraint or purpose whatsoever, and a dark blue shockwave shot out from the burst of color, disappearing harmlessly before coming close to them. Elsa was on her feet, Kai with a hand on her shoulder, ready to run with her, Svansson's hand on his sword as he stood in front of his queen.

     The fire disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving no trace of its presence on the floor, and the warped air sucked in on itself and vanished with a pop.

     Standing in the center of the space the fireball had formerly occupied was a man.

     He was taller than any man she had _ever_ seen in her entire life. It was mind-boggling, and from the small sounds a few of the councilors made, they were equally stunned by his sheer height. Most of the people of Arendelle were on the average side, good medium heights, stocky. But this man was tall, broad-shouldered, and thin, with armor that looked like dragon scales down his arms, and plates that looked like interlocking slabs of bone down his chest all the way to his knees—a skeleton dipped in brass. Dragon-head pauldrons, simplistic, stylized and yet immediately recognizable from their horns and teeth, swept from the bar of the armor across his chest and up over his shoulders, and under the armor were black robes that hung to the floor; loose and billowing in the sleeves and skirt, and cinched at the waist with a broad black sash, for the body of the robes was made of a deep, iridescent gold fabric which had the rich look of taffeta. It ran down his chest in a stripe beneath the armor and down the skirt of the robes, and two long stoles of olive green hung from his shoulders to the floor, leaving long, flowing, straight black sleeves that opened at the elbow to free the rest of his arms, which were clothed in the same shimmery gold material. A long and heavy-looking dark cape hung to the floor from his shoulders and trailed out behind him for about two feet. The cape attached to the armor on his shoulders and extended up over his head in a dark cowl that cleanly covered the sides of his face...a face that was shrouded behind a silver mask that vaguely resembled an abstracted skull. There were no eye holes in the mask, only rounded protuberances where the eyes ought to be with a carved slit that logically no one would be capable of seeing out of. The mask had no mouth, merely a triangular piece carved over the lower half of the face. It was blank, expressionless and inhuman, and frightening.

     Elsa swallowed, her heart suddenly going far too fast for comfort.

     The mask was like a skull, but she had just caught sight of the skin that peeked out from under it on his jaw and throat, and the hands that gripped a long, bronze staff with a strange bluish-green orb on one end that seemed to be glowing faintly. The man held it easily, less as a weapon and more as a scepter or even a walking stick, but Elsa was staring at his hand on the shaft, face pale.

     It was _grey_.

     His skin was _grey._

     Like something _dead._

     The mask and cowl were held in place by a crown-like golden circlet with another dragon motif on the forehead, but there was nothing about this being that reminded her of a human anymore. The hand curled around the staff was like a spider, fingers long and bony, with _three-inch_ black talons on the end, curving, impossibly sharp, and between that, they height, the grey skin, and the terrifying mask, the _creature_ before them seemed no longer regal and surprising, but _monstrous_.

     And the very air around him seemed _charged_ with magic.

     Elsa saw Anna's mouth fall open, but Svansson did not relax his defensive posture, and Kai did not release her arm, even when she gestured to him that she was okay. Her heart was pounding in her chest.

_What is this thing? What have I done, calling him—_

     The Dragon Priest suddenly bowed low, bending down at the waist, his every motion more fluid and graceful than anything she had ever seen, and yet sweeping and grandiose, and every single one of them jumped like startled rabbits when he suddenly burst into movement without warning from complete immobility. He seemed like a wild animal, and she felt like she was in a cage with him; he seemed to dwarf everyone else with his mere presence. Kai and Svansson and Anna were beside her, but Elsa felt tiny and alone...alone with _him_.

     “ _Drem Yol Lok, Jud Konikrei._ Greetings, Queen Elsa.”

     Elsa flinched again, and she was not the only one. His voice was loud, echoing, rebounding around the throne room, and it was dark and _guttural_ , like rocks crashing together, stone grating on iron—it made her think of vultures, and the crashing ocean, and _death_ —but it was beautiful in its roughness while also terrifying in its coarse power. It wasn't a human voice. It was the voice of a dragon.

 _This is what your parents contacted_ , a voice whispered in the back of her mind. _This is what they considered, if only for a minute, allowing near you._

     Elsa swallowed and took a step forward, gently pushing Svansson's waiting arm down and tugging her own free from Kai’s frightened grip. The commander stepped aside, but barely, and Elsa tipped her upper body in the smallest of dips, respectful but in no way obsequious. “Gr—Greetings!” She called out, damning her voice for shaking slightly. “Lord—Priest?—Morokei. It is an honor to meet you. Thank you for...coming all this way to Arendelle.”

     “The pleasure is mine, beautiful Queen,” That monstrous voice replied, the man it belonged to straightening back up with fluid grace. “I do hope I have not _alarmed_ your _raad..._ your noble councilmen. Many _apologies._ ”

     Elsa heard Anna make some sound, but she was too focused on Morokei. Part of her felt like she was indeed staring down some wild animal. No sudden movements, don’t break eye contact. Despite not being able to see his eyes, she could _feel_ them on her, and it set all the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. A chill ran down her spine.

     “No, no, it's quite fine. We simply were not expecting you to arrive....thusly.” Her voice sounded flat and small compared to the harsh echo of his, which was still reverberating around the room.

     “We thank you for your presence here, Lord Morokei,” Kai said, stepping forward and also bowing. The other councilors did the same, and Svansson managed a stiff bob. Anna curtsied, but her eyes never left Morokei's masked face, and there was something in her expression that seemed defensive and hostile. “You must forgive us for our surprise.”

 _Go on_ , Elsa thought. _Approach him. You can’t look_ afraid _, who knows what he will do with that. Don’t show fear._ It really _was_ like dealing with a wild animal.

     Elsa stepped down from the dais, ignoring Svansson's sound of protest, and slowly approached Morokei. It was as long a walk as it had been down the chapel aisle at her coronation; every step felt like a thousand things were weighing her down. _Definitely_ glad she hadn’t worn Sabine’s dress, but at the same time, she wished she looked a little more regal herself—this man’s outfit was _extravagant_.

 _Go on,_ she whispered in her mind. _Go on. You have to approach him. Don’t be afraid_.

 _Fear will be your enemy,_ a little voice whispered inside, and Elsa immediately heard the crunch of frost under her foot.

     Everything seized up. She went stiff, and her step faltered, and her heart was pounding in her ears, stomach turning knots, her hands clenched into fists. There was half a heartbeat where instinct told her to _bolt_...and then she put her other foot down with calm determination and kept walking forward, every frosty crunch echoing in her ears as loud as a canon.

     She finally came to a stop before Morokei, and tilted her head back to look up at the Dragon Priest.

     There was an unbelievable chill radiating off him, and the air around him was stifling and charged with energy; Elsa felt her hair stand on end even more, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if the hair on her head was rising with static too. She was used to cold, she could feel it but it did not harm her and therefore she enjoyed it, but this was a very different kind of cold. She herself had some degree of body heat, and was only mildly chilly to the touch. Morokei, however, was surrounded by a frigid circle of air that sent waves of freezing cold radiating out from him like tiny, invisible blizzards. It was a cold she had never felt in her life, not even standing on top of a frozen mountain in the middle of the night in an ice castle, wearing a light and rather skimpy dress made entirely of frost.

     Elsa was jarred from her thoughts by a touch colder than any she had ever felt before; Morokei had taken her outstretched hand, unprompted, with zero forewarning.

     Elsa’s entire body went rigid, tension flooding her veins and her heart pounding. His skin was like pure ice when it touched hers, and with a taught hardness that skin was _not_ supposed to have. Up close, there was a pearly grey sheen to that pale, pale skin—pale enough to make Elsa of all people look positively sunkissed. And his hand was massive—large enough to engulf hers completely.

     Before Elsa could question why he had her fingers in his, or why and how her hand had gotten where he had taken it from in the first place, he bent and ‘kissed’ the lips of his mask to the back of her hand. Heat rose to her cheeks without warning at the gesture and the contact.

     “You are far more beautiful in person, lovely _Jud_ ,” he said with something of a smile coloring his terrible voice, and Elsa turned pink right then and there.

_Oh. Okay. Oh boy._

     Anna and Kai both made angry sounds in the backs of their throat.

     “You know my parents?” Was the first thing to (intelligently) escape her mouth. “Knew my parents. Knew. They died.” _Oh my God, I sound like Anna_. _I’m going to embarrass the entire country. Why is he so_ **_scary?_  **

     He seemed to smile; she could feel it, even through the mask, but it did _not_ set her at ease. “Through a brief correspondence.”

     “You will have to tell me about that,” she managed.

     Anna had approached them and was standing rather protectively at Elsa's side, looking more like she was ready to charge Morokei than greet him, and her presence helped clear the queen's head. “Lord Morokei, this is my younger sister, Princess Anna.”

     Anna curtsied stiffly; Morokei bowed just as graciously to her as he had to Elsa, either missing her hostility or choosing to ignore it. As subtly as possible, Elsa found Anna's toe and gently stepped on it. To her credit, Anna did not squawk like she usually did, merely stood up straighter and glared a little harder at the Dragon Priest before saying—in a far more welcoming voice than her expression deemed possible—“It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Excellency.”

     The councilors had now also approached, Svansson coming to stand at Elsa's other shoulder with his hand still on the hilt of his sword, though his posture was deceptively easy. Everyone was treating Morokei like the enemy and it was starting to annoy Elsa, no matter how scared she herself was. The last thing they wanted to do was let their guard down, sure—but the _other_ last thing they wanted to do was insult what might be Arendelle’s last hope by looking ready to slaughter him constantly.

     “I am the Queen's majordomo, and this is her esteemed Commander of the Armies, Commander Erik Svansson. These are her council members—Markus Olsen, Thomas Llagluund, Willhelm Stornic, Leif Hild, Nils Andersen, Gjalund Hagge, and Njal Henningsen.” Kai cleared his throat. “We all welcome you to Arendelle, and hope you have a pleasant stay.” Even Kai's words sounded rehearsed and rather clipped, and as the majordomo, Kai was a fluid conversationalist even to the likes of the Duke of Weselton and Prince Hans.

     Was it just her, or had the distance between her and Morokei increased the minute the others had approached? She hadn't seen him back away, but he seemed to have, at some point, and she folded her hands near her waist, rubbing her thumbs together nervously. Elsa broke the tense silence by gesturing to the doors. “Shall we find somewhere else to discuss matters of state? You've come a long way, surely you must want to get right to business.”

     “That would be pleasant,” Morokei replied. He had an accent, strange and lilting and impossible for Elsa to place, difficult to distinguish under the aggressive _guttural_ sound of his voice—perhaps it was simply a Skyrim accent. She gestured, and as a group they proceeded to the study. Anna fell into step behind her and took Kristoff's arm, and the rest of the councilors followed them, Svansson and Kai walking on either side of Elsa. Kristoff had to keep looking down to avoid stepping on Morokei's cape, and Anna likewise had to avoid Elsa's. Elsa tried not to pay too much attention to the Dragon Priest walking beside her, Kai just barely between them. Or how _tall_ he was—he dwarfed her by a solid two feet, if not even more. He dwarfed _Svansson_ by a foot. Oh God, what was she getting herself into? What was she getting _all_ of them into? What if this Dragon Priest had designs on Arendelle—what if he was—

     She was saved from overthinking and potentially causing a personal blizzard by Kai, who bowed before Elsa and opened the study doors for the queen and her guest, and the party entered the room.

     “Kai, please get the lights,” Elsa ordered, but stopped when Morokei said, “No need.”

     He held up his hand, and all the candles in the room suddenly _lit_ themselves, and the curtains opened to let dusty light in through the windows onto the tables. Elsa blinked in the sudden brightness, stunned by what she had just witnessed.

 _Magic_ , whispered her mind.

     Kai looked just as startled, Svansson looked annoyed, and the rest of the councilors and Anna seemed to be unsure of what to think. Kai pulled out a seat for Elsa, who sat down at the head of the table, and her councilors tentatively took their own seats, leaving a spot for Anna beside Elsa, and Kristoff across from her. Morokei was left a seat at the opposite end of the table, which he took without complaint and sat with his hands folded on the wood before him.

     “Lord Morokei,” Elsa began.

     “You may call me Morokei if you wish. Or Glorious, whichever you prefer.”

     Nils and Olsen both made a strange snorting sound of contrition.

     “...Morokei.” She had never had anyone ask her to call them by their first name—last name? Only name? What exactly was his full name anyway? “Would it be all right if I asked you to take off the mask?”

     There were some murmurings among the councilors that she asked so politely. She was the queen, and this was her country; he had no grounds to refuse, but she asked as if he had every right to. It betrayed her discomfort with her role a little too much for this outsider to witness. This dangerous, powerful outsider.

     Morokei, however, said nothing, merely reached up with one hand and pulled the circlet off, gripped the mask with long fingers splayed over the front, and pulled it from his face, the hood falling away as he did.

     Elsa's mouth fell open.

     The voice was frightening, and the mask was inhuman and fearsome, but the man sitting across the table from her was....

     ... _beautiful_.

     His skin was as pale as alabaster, but tinted faintly peachy-grey, and smooth and unlined on a powerful, chiseled face, as perfect and angular as if it had been cut from a block of ice or marble. Every feature was proud and refined, sharp and elegant and dangerous, and the slight hook to his long nose and the strange arch of his hairless brows only served to make him that much more exotic. His lips were narrow and a dark blackish-maroon, as if they had been stained, and his face was clean-shaven, a smoothness most men could not achieve with a mere razor. When he had removed the mask, the cowl had fallen back, and Elsa now stared at a shock of scarlet hair so luxurious it looked like it was made of silk. A deeper, richer red she had never seen. His hair fell in luxurious waves down to his waist, swept back from his forehead in a wild but controlled mane of vibrant, deepest crimson—large sweeping locks that seemed to defy gravity and hang back from his face not unlike her own when she wore a braid. He was not as old as she had expected, maybe in his forties, but he was also strangely ageless. His skin was too smooth and unlined to be older than...well, 20, but nothing else about his face said anything younger than 40. His eyes were deep-set and slightly sunken, his cheeks too hollowed, mouth set too flat and thinly to be considered youthful.

     His _eyes_ were the most unnerving feature of his face, though. They were beautiful, almond-shaped, slanted eyes, turned up ever so slightly at the outside corners to give him a strange and slightly otherworldly look, but instead of whites, they were pitch- _black_ , and the irises were a brilliant golden _orange_ — _glowing_ orange. The skin around them was darker than the rest, purplish-gray, and his strange eyes were deep-set in his head. No human eyes had ever looked like that. These were the eyes of an animal, a dragon, something dark and dangerous, alluring and mysterious.

     She heard Anna make a sound of surprise, and many of the council members gasped as well. Morokei smiled at Elsa, half smirk and half genuine grin, and while he moved so little of his face in that small expression, it changed his entire countenance to one of perplexing beauty. She choked on her own saliva for a brief second before regaining her composure and meeting his strange eyes with a smile of her own.

     “Thank you,” she offered, proud that her voice was not a squeak, and removed her gloves. “Now. Shall we discuss an alliance?”

     “We shall,” Morokei replied, and it was a very strange sensation to hear that inhuman voice and see the dark lips move. Elsa smiled again, because she didn’t know what else to do, and in her lap her fingers began twitching.

     “Skyrim has forced the Dominion from its borders, and has successfully kept them out ever since,” he began, leaving Elsa to watch his lips and hands move even as she tried to pay close attention to his words. “We can offer you that same protection—the protection of the Dragon Priests—as an alternative to having to offer up your throne,” he gestured to Elsa, “And your sister.”

Anna started. “Wait, what?”

     Before Elsa could shoot her a ' _I_ _'ll explain later'_ look, Councilor Andersen said, “Both Weselton and the Southern Isles have offered to ally with us against the Dominion in exchange for your hand in marriage, Princess Anna.”

     Anna made a face that was so comically disgusted even Morokei smiled. “Ex-CUSE me? No. Absolutely not, no.” She paused. “Why not Elsa? She's the Queen. Not that I'm trying to force you to marry some old scumbag, Elsa. Because I'm not. Wait, am I?”

     Elsa shook her head. “They want my abdication and your hand.”

     Andersen glared at Morokei. “Something I’m curious as to know how _this_ man knows.”

     Morokei just smiled.

     “NO, NO, NO,” Anna exploded, and Kristoff had to reach up and drag her back down. “ _You're_ the queen! They can't kick you out.”

     “You flatter me, Anna,” Elsa said quietly. “But for a very long while there, I was afraid I had no choice.”

     “But you do,” Morokei interrupted, and when Elsa turned back to him he had both elbows on the table and his hands folded under his chin, eyes partially lidded in an expression Elsa couldn’t name, but was probably somewhere between amused and smug. “The Dominion fears _Keizaal_. An alliance with us will most certainly shift this power struggle in your favor, and it may not even come to all-out war.” He looked almost like this was... _funny_ to him. Or like he was watching a pageant unfold, or a play.

 _Because he is,_ something said deep down. _We’re the play, and he’s watching us._

     “But what is it the ‘Dragon Priests’ want in return for our allegiance?” Svansson asked suspiciously.

     Morokei still kept up that small, self-assured, secretive little smirk. “The _Sonaak_ want nothing... _yet_.”

     “Oh, _that’s_ reassuring,” Nils said under his breath, but everyone heard him—it was hard not to.

 _“I_ come alone, acting independently for the time being. However, the _Sonaak_ function as a cohesive unit regardless of our personal interests, and I _am_ the leader.” He smiled, and Elsa found herself bewildered at his beauty yet again. Surely that was not natural. No one’s face was so— _symmetrical._ And how was it he managed to be beautiful while looking so wholly unnatural? “If I ally myself with Arendelle, they are bound by ancient ritual and rite to support me. They are my _Zeymah_ , and they will do as I have said. Their price, I cannot speak for.” He cast a look at Elsa that was completely unreadable. It probably had to do with his eyebrows being...well, the way they were. “Regardless, we all have our own holdings and autonomy, and I can promise my own _lahvu_ —our largest army by far—and all of my _kendov_ to support yours if for _some reason_ the rest of theirs were…‘preoccupied’ with other things.” His smile widened. “Which will not be an... _issue_ either way. Unless, of course, _something_ should occur.”

     The way he smiled made it clear this was a warning.

     “So we have no guarantee Skyrim will aid us,” Svansson said, taking it as a threat and rising to the challenge without hesitation. “You’re an independent party that doesn't represent the collective interests of the nation and can't help us at all. Why should we make a deal with you at all?”

     “I _said_ the other priests will be required to support me, and Arendelle through me, should we make this alliance, nevermind what I myself am offering you.” Morokei repeated coolly. “I was under the impression I spoke clearly, but perhaps not. Should Arendelle and I strike up a bargain that is to both our likings, Skyrim will support Arendelle. Unquestionably. And I alone could more than handle the Dominion’s intrusions into Arendelle as it is. Do not underestimate me.”

     “How do you know they’re actually going to do as you said?” Svansson asked with a faint sneer. “Sounds like you’re just posturing.”

     “Svansson,” Elsa said warningly.

     “I certainly must not have made it obvious, then, if you’re still questioning me,” Morokei snapped, effectively silencing whatever Svansson was about to continue saying. “I need not explain the inner workings of _Keizaal_ to you, _Commander_ , so do not _concern_ yourself with them. I am the only one you need to make an agreement with.” His eyes fixed on Elsa now, and his expression softened marginally. “If you choose to forge an alliance with me, regardless of whether _all_ the other Dragon Priests agree, you will be protected either way. Krosis and Vokun will back me whether the rest are _available_ or not, whether they might wish to argue initially or not, but in the grand scheme of things their arguments mean nothing. They will bend.”

     “Is it likely the other Dragon Priests might not agree to support Arendelle?” Elsa asked. _Krosis. Vokun. Morokei._ Names that didn’t belong in Arendelle, names so very guttural and alien.

     “It is unlikely,” he replied. “When one of us makes a decision, we are both honor-bound and blood-bound to support the decision. We are _zeymah_ , and we have always been for centuries. Though I come here alone, ultimately I represent all of Skyrim. I am the strongest Dragon Priest, with the most men, and the largest domain, and the highest title. I would not go so far as to say the rest _serve_ me...but they will listen when I speak. And in Keizaal, my word is law. They may _resist_ , but they will concede.” He smiled again, self-assured, secretive. “Our interests will in the end align. I may be the only one who has any interest in Arendelle, but I do promise you their support...if our terms are agreeable to both of us.”

     “So what is it _you_ want, then?” Anna piped up, surprising the men. It was a good question, one Elsa had been too afraid to phrase herself. Anna calmly stared back at Morokei, and did not even look away when he fixed her with his hard, dangerous gaze, as Svansson had. Elsa felt her chest swell with pride at her sister's mettle. It could get her into a pickle and a half, but Anna had more fire than most of these men put together, and she was Elsa’s right hand for this reason. “You aren't offering this alliance, without the support of your whole country, knowing your brothers or whatever might not want to support you, from just the goodness of your heart, if you don't mind my saying so. And you’ve made it abundantly clear that if we don’t fulfill all your terms, we aren’t going to get the full backing of all the Dragon Priests.”

     Morokei actually smiled, tapping long nails together as he steepled his hands before his chest. “Shrewd, _Kulaas_. Normally, I would indeed expect something in return. And no doubt my brothers will want to demand something of Arendelle beyond just what I seek, perhaps trade or access to trade routes, perhaps a monetary compensation. I have little interest in those things myself. _I_ see merely the offer for a strategic alliance between two countries which will likely serve beneficial in the future.” The dark lips curled upwards slightly. “The Dominion thrust Skyrim into a bloody war and violently took over, and that prompted a civil war within her. When the _Dov_ rose again from it, and we with them, we were able to unite _Keizaal’s_ rather divided people and force the wretched elves out of our home, and have kept them out ever since.”

     “Hang on,” Olsen interrupted, leaning forward. “ _Elves_ , you said. What is that...little sprites? Like the trolls? What are these ‘elves’?”

     Morokei looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “The Dominion is not a human empire like the Dragon Empire, insofar as one can call I and mine ‘human’. It is entirely the Altmer, a race of elves—mer, as they are called. They stand close in height to I myself, and are gifted with magic—every single one of them. And they breed selectively, for war. Hence why they are a formidable enemy...for you.”

     “First _dragons_ are real, these _Dov_ whatevers, then _undeads_ , and now _elves!_ ” Hagge said, throwing his hands in the air. “What’s next, the Valkyrie?”

     “I will ask you politely not to speak of the _Dov_ ,” Morokei said coolly. “The word is reserved for Dragon Priests only, for it has religious connotations.”

     Hagge looked like he had a lot of choice words to say in response, but kept his mouth shut. Elsa was trying not to freeze her own skirt with her bare hands, drumming her fingers on her thigh. This wasn’t going great. The immediate and obvious hostility towards Morokei was inexplicable and deeply annoying; they were trying to negotiate an _alliance_ , not gain another enemy.

     “It has been roughly five and two hundred twenty years since we routed them from our lands,” Morokei continued from where he had left off previously. “And we intend to _keep_ them out. Arendelle faces the threat of annihilation that Skyrim faced so many years ago. The elves detest magic wielders, like myself, like Elsa, that are not Altmer, Dunmer or any of the other ‘mer’ races, and they detest _my_ religion just as much as they frown on yours. Why would I not seek an alliance with a sister country so clearly facing the same situation mine was in not even a century ago?”

     “How very altruistic of you,” Svansson muttered.

     “Svansson, enough,” Elsa snapped.

     Morokei swiveled his head to glare at Svansson. “If you must know, there has never been a magic wielder quite like your esteemed Queen, especially not one so capable at such a young age. I wish to get to _know_ you and your land and people, and learn from you, if you will let me. I see a propitious future ahead if our talents were to combine.” He looked at Elsa. “If not, my offer still stands; I can promise you _my_ personal support and all _my_ forces against the Dominion and all its allies. But the other priests of Skyrim, in that particular case, will not join your side.” He smiled then, and Elsa saw wickedly sharp teeth behind the dark lips. “But permit me to learn more about your Queen and what she can do, and perhaps enlist her aid in the rejuvenation of my homeland, and I can offer you the support of all of Skyrim and all our forces.” His eyes narrowed as Svansson opened his mouth to speak. “ _And I do not break my promises_. I have assessed the future _quite_ carefully. The other priests will bend their knees to Arendelle in the end, however they might bluster first.”

     “So that’s what you want, then,” Anna said. “You want Elsa.” All eyes turned to her. “You want to study her. And learn how her power works. And then make it work for you.”

     “She’s at perfect liberty to say no,” Morokei replied, that somewhat-smug, somewhat-mocking, wholly amused expression back on his face as he looked coolly at Anna.

     “Yeah, and if she does, we get just _you_ , and not all of Skyrim.”

     “I don’t think you have any idea what I alone am capable of,” Morokei replied cheerfully.

     “No,” Anna replied flatly. “You’re right. I don’t.”

     Elsa wished she could read the expression on Morokei’s face as he gazed at Anna, eyes still half-lidded. But his expressions were strange and hard to read, and she couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or not by Anna’s bluntness.

     “Well, perhaps one day you will see, _Kulaas_ ,” he replied evenly.

     “Is that a threat?” Anna shot back.

     “Only if you decide to take it as one.”

     Svansson almost stood up. “Now—”

     “Svansson,” Elsa said pointedly.

     Morokei just smiled.

     "And what if we do choose to say no? Why would you help us if we denied you?" Nils asked.

     Morokei just kept smiling. "Alliances can open many doors for all parties involved. Even a small one, between one Dragon Priest and such a tiny country...you never know who might be watching."

     “Elsa?” Anna said loudly, and all eyes turned to the young queen. Even those black and orange ones—and Elsa couldn’t look away from them.

     “May I....think about it?” Elsa said after a moment, finally managing to tear her eyes from his. Morokei seemed unsurprised, and merely looked at her. “I fear that an alliance with Skyrim will appear to the Dominion, and the Southern Isles, and Weselton, as an act of war, and a war is exactly what I'm trying to avoid. If possible, I wish Arendelle to remain neutral.”

     “But of course,” Morokei replied. “I did not come here to demand an answer immediately.”

     “This is, indeed, something the Queen should have a chance to ruminate on and discuss with her council,” Kai said pointedly.

     “Alliances are not made overnight,” Morokei replied. “ _Pruzah._ ”

     “If possible,” Svansson said, “Perhaps just knowing that negotiations have been attempted with Skyrim will encourage the Dominion to back off.” His tone said he absolutely hoped that was the case and they had no further need of Morokei.

     “Doubtful,” Morokei replied.  

     “Will you stay, though?” She found herself asking. “At least for a time? You said you wanted to get to know me, and my powers...and people.” She swallowed. “And with the constant pressure from the Dominion and the Southern Isles, it would be comforting to know I have someone here who might help protect my people, if it came down to it.”

     There were muffled noises of dissent among her advisors, and vaguely it registered that even if Arendelle was attacked, Morokei had zero obligation to defend Arendelle, but she ignored them.

     “Absolutely,” Morokei said, which surprised her as much as it surprised everyone else. “I am at your command, _dii Jud_.”

     Elsa paused, then smiled at him. “Please,” she said. “Call me Elsa.”

 

~*~

 

     “What _was_ that?!” Anna cried, shutting the door unnecessarily hard behind her.

     “What was what?” Elsa asked, confused and not totally focusing on her. The way he had just brought every light in the room to life was still pasted into the forefront of her mind, along with his eerie voice, and even eerier eyes. _Magic,_ her thoughts kept whispering, as though the concept was strange to her.

_Just like you._

_Nothing like me._

_But still...magic._

     “Elsa, were you even paying attention throughout that meeting?” Elsa was jarred back to reality by Anna’s exclamation. “That went _way_ too smoothly. I expected it to take hours, but he breezed in and then bam, terms were laid out and you two were suddenly best friends!” Anna grabbed her sister’s face between her hands, causing Elsa to flinch. “Elsa, didn’t you pay any attention at all to how _terrifying_ he was?”

     “Terrifying? I mean, with the mask, yes, maybe, but I thought he was actually rather attractive,” Elsa replied, simultaneously wondering when she had turned into Anna, and Anna into her. “Wasn’t he? I would think _you_ would agree—”

     “Sure, Elsa, he was _gorgeous_ in the most unnatural way I’ve ever seen. Did you see his eyes? His cheekbones were like _shelves_ and his eyes were _glowing_ , and he sounded like—a demon!” Anna waved her hands in the air. “Kristoff was in a cold sweat the entire time. Didn’t you notice the other councilors? Everyone was on edge—except you!”

     “How is that a bad thing?” Elsa asked, disheartened by the interrogation. She had thought the meeting had gone well...at least the actual negotiating part. Her councilors had been difficult but—

     “Elsa, there was _no_ haggling at all. Almost no haggling. Maybe someone haggled. I haggled. Did I haggle? Mostly I just interrogated him. He said one thing and you almost gave Arendelle to him.” Anna crossed her arms. “Did he enchant you or something? This isn’t like you.”

     Elsa frowned. “No, he didn’t _enchant_ me, do you think I’m not capable of negotiating on my own?”

     “Given you played right into his hands, yeah! I do!”

     “I did not!” Elsa retorted, stung. “I was careful!”

     “You didn’t even question him. _I_ questioned him,” Anna shot back.

     “Well, I would have, eventually! I wanted him to say his piece first!” Elsa crossed her arms. “Why are you _yelling_ at me, Anna, I didn’t _do_ anything!”

     “Is this how you felt at your coronation when you tried to explain to me that ‘you can’t marry a man you just met’? Because it’s not getting through to you. That _wasn’t normal_ , Elsa. He breezed right in, offered you protection from his ENTIRE COUNTRY, for virtually nothing! Nothing except _you!_ That’s not how negotiations work. ”

     “Anna, _what_ do you know about politics and negotiating?” Elsa demanded, then gasped. From the brief flicker that crossed Anna’s face, she had thought of the same thing. “Oh, Anna, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just—”

     Anna sighed. “I know. I know. They didn’t teach me politics and queen stuff because they had you, I get that. But I’ve been trying to learn! And I have good instincts.”

     “I know you have,” Elsa replied, putting a gentle hand on her sister’s shoulder. “And yes, sometimes you do. Are they really screaming at you now?”

     “My instincts? Yeah, kind of,” Anna admitted. “Something’s off. Fact aside that he’s creepy as all get-out, I don’t trust him. I think there’s more that he wants that he isn’t saying, and he’s being far too philanthropic for someone who’s one of the eight tyrants of Skyrim.” She shuddered.

     “Perhaps you’re right,” Elsa admitted, frowning.

     “I think you’re too excited by the prospect of saving Arendelle to think about how his offer’s a little too good to be true,” Anna said gently. “And the fact that he isn’t asking for trade, or ship routes, or money, but _you?_ That’s what concerns me.” She paused. “Where are your gloves?”

     “My what?” Elsa looked down at her hands and gasped. “My gloves! Where—”

     Sure enough, her hands were bare. But they had most certainly not gone into the throne room like that!

     “When did you last have them?” Anna asked. “It’s not the end of the world, you have three _bazillion_ others, but I’m surprised you even lost them. Did you ever take them off?”

     “No, I—they were off when Morokei kissed my...hand…” Elsa was silent for a long moment. “Do you think I destroyed them?” She asked.

     “What do you mean?”

     “Like how I changed into that Snow Queen dress...I froze the coronation gown and shredded it apart once it was brittle,” Elsa admitted, still feeling guilty for the loss of the dress. “Made the new one entirely out of...ice. Do you think I obliterated my gloves without...even _noticing_?”

     “I don’t know,” Anna replied cautiously, “But they were gone when Morokei…” She shuddered, “ _kissed_ your hand. What, did he take them or something?”

     “I would have noticed that,” Elsa replied scathingly, more than a little stressed. The gloves were her comfort, yes, but she hated misplacing and losing things, and the fact that she had lost an article of clothing _while_ wearing it worried her severely.

     “Okay, okay, don’t stress, everything is fine. We’ll either find your gloves, or I’ll run to the attic and get you a new pair,” Anna replied. “Come on. Let’s go to the dressing room and get you out of this heavy velour thing.”

     “Maybe I should stay in it.” Elsa nervously twitched her fingers. “I mean, in case further...in case I run into Morokei.”

     “I don’t want you anywhere _near_ him when you’re alone,” Anna said darkly, even as they began walking towards the dressing room. “Seriously. I mean it. You’re the Queen and my big sister and I’m not leaving you alone with that _creature_ for hours on end.”

     “Anna,” Elsa said chidingly, though her voice was gentle. She appreciated Anna’s fierce protectiveness. It was reassuring, and it made her feel safe...even if Anna was only a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet and Elsa was the one far more likely to do lasting damage in a fight, given her ability to make spears of ice rocket out of the ground.

     “He rubs me the wrong way, Elsa,” Anna replied, voice low and furtive as though Morokei himself might be listening. “I don’t trust him, and he scares me. Listen, I’ve been reading up on the legends about Skyrim. Really it’s all word of mouth, but...the Dragon Priests are _definitely_ mentioned, and they’re said to be...undead.”

     Elsa swallowed. She’d been reading up on Skyrim too; it was all she’d been able to think about ever since the arrival of that letter. Most of the stories were ones the girls had been told as children, and were relatively tame, but she _knew_ that there were other, worse, tales out there, tales she’d been too sheltered to encounter.

     The land was said to be eternally plagued by death in all its forms. From what Elsa had heard, it was shrouded eternally in a storm that made the sky permanently grey and dark, and the land cold and misty. There was fog on all the shores that completely hid the land itself from view, and everything was either ice cliffs, barren tundra, or rock. There was little in the way of fertile lands, and the few people who braved the expanse and called it home were usually hostile and aloof, and hated outsiders. According to one legend, if you left your house after dark there were all manner of evil things in the night that could come and get you. _Things_ that stood in the middle of the marshes with glowing red eyes, drawing hundreds of flies to it, only vaguely humanoid, and to look upon it was to die. Gigantic humanoids made of ice who could break every bone in your body with a swing, who lay hidden within the rocks before springing. _Skeletons_ walked at night, and worse. Strange people lurked in the dry southwestern lands with dark grey skin and pitch-black eyes, who would slit your throat if you looked upon them. And there were giant men who lived in packs, and goblins who hid in caves...she’d heard that bandits and thieves lived all over the place, and were waiting at every turn. There was a brotherhood of assassins lurking in the shadows. She had even heard one story of a whole village who had begun to turn strange, and then disappeared…and another story of a woman who acted oddly and unlike herself, and then ate her husband. People enslaved by the wills of dark sorcerers. Satanic rituals. There were supposedly men and women who could shift into _wolves_ , or _bears_ , and be consumed with fierce animal hunger and bloodlust when they did, and forget their human selves entirely. A pantheon of demonic gods who were worshipped in the dark, in secret. That was the extent of what Elsa had heard, and it didn’t paint a pretty picture, never mind the darker stories she knew existed but had never had the chance to listen to.

     “What do you know about them?” Elsa asked, walking alongside Anna as they started for the dressing room.

     “Well,” Anna said after a moment. “I heard that there are a _lot_ of tombs in Skyrim, and they’ve got all sorts of issues with dead things staying, um, _dead_. There’s skeletons that walk around in the woods at night—”

     “Yes, I’ve heard that one.”

     “—and ghosts that you can find just about anywhere. And then there are the things _in_ the tombs, and any old ruin really. Most old tombs are sealed with a ton of ‘wards’ which I think are a kind of spell, but there are also...iron doors and wooden doors and ebony doors—not wood ebony, it’s some kind of cursed metal. I don’t know.” Anna shrugged. “Then the entrances are usually buried, unless it’s like...an old ruined city, there are a few of those. One of them, Bromjunaar, _oh_ man. You wouldn’t _believe_ how many people went there and never came back. Those stories...” Anna shuddered. “And Valthume? And Forelhost. Those are the ones with the most stories…” She glanced at Elsa. “And those all belong to, uh, Dragon Priests.”

     Elsa was silent for a long moment. “Old ruined cities?”

     “Yep. And we’re talking _old_. Really old. Like, beginning-of-time-old. Before even the Vikings and stuff.” Anna waved a hand.

     Elsa remained silent for a longer moment before saying quietly, “So...which one is Morokei from?” She knew, she was sure she knew, but she didn’t want to say it aloud now.

     Anna hesitated, though whether she was thinking or she didn’t want to say, Elsa couldn’t tell. “I’m not totally sure—”

     “ _Bromjunaar_.” Elsa uttered the word in a voice barely above a whisper. “It’s Bromjunaar, isn’t it? He’s from Bromjunaar, he signed his letter as the Dr—is it okay for us to say….dragon?” She backtracked, whispering the word, remembering how he had asked the councilor not to.

     Anna made a ‘pshaw’ sound. “ _I’m_ not going to stop saying the word _dragon_.”

     “Anna, we should be respectful of his religion while he’s our guest—”

     “He’s a _tyrannical cult leader,_ Elsa.”

     Elsa shrugged somewhat helplessly. “Do you really think he’s...y’know... _not_ actually...alive?"

     Death had never been something Elsa had looked on lightly. Ever since she had struck Anna, it had always seemed to be lurking just around the corner, waiting for her hands to guide it to its next victim. Her parents’ loss, and then _actually_ killing Anna, even if only for a moment...they hadn’t helped. She still remembered the cold sting of her own ice covering her body as she held onto Anna’s frozen form, and it made her stomach turn over. Dark images parades through her mind, and she put her hands over her temples, feeling panic building up behind her eyes.

     “Elsa. Elsa!” Anna’s voice swam suddenly into focus, and she took her hands off her sister’s shoulders, which she had gently been shaking. “Hey. Are you okay? You had...you had a moment there, friend.”

     “Oh God, Anna, what if I’ve made a terrible mistake?” Elsa exclaimed. “What if—what if I’ve invited a _monster_ right inside Arendelle’s borders?”

     “Well, then we deal with him,” Anna replied gently, putting one hand back on Elsa’s shoulder reassuringly. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. You’re not wrong about that. But if he turns out to be evil, we’ll find a way to get rid of him. If not, well, then we simply have a rather creepy ally, y’know? I know I complained, but this was the right choice.”

     “You’re lying,” Elsa said flatly. “Just telling me what I want to hear.”

     “Maybe,” Anna replied with a shrug. “But I really do think that, circumstances being what they are, you made a choice...eh, a choice that makes sense, I guess. I wouldn’t really call it _good_ , and I don’t trust him, but you did it for Arendelle, and we all owe you a lot.” Anna touched her sister’s chin and then hugged her quickly.

     “I know,” Elsa said quietly. “I just...if this goes wrong, I’ve doomed us all. If I had never frozen Arendelle, the Dominion would never have come—I’ve doomed us all already and this would be dooming us twice over.”

     “ _Elsa_ ,” Anna wheedled. “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself.”

     Elsa groaned. “ _I know_. It’s a bad habit.”

     “Well, that’s why I’m here,” Anna replied cheerfully. “To help you break it. And to be the best little sister I can be.”

     Elsa smiled in spite of herself and reached out to draw Anna into a tender hug. “I’m so proud of you, Anna.”     

     “Wait, for what?”

     “For the woman you’ve become. And so much more.” Elsa squeezed her sister a bit tighter, eyelashes brushing Anna’s temple where their faces were squished together, and then she relinquished her hold. “I have some paperwork to do, but after that, do you maybe want to go horseback riding? It’ll help clear my head...from things.”

     “Sure!” Anna said, clearly excited. “I’ll actually get Kristoff to help me start grooming the horses now, if that’s okay. I kind of want to unwind a bit with him.”

     “Then I’ll meet you down at the stables in...hmm, how does two hours sound?”

     “Sounds perfect.” Anna repeated back, grinning. “Want me to walk you to your study?”

     Elsa raised an eyebrow demurely. “Oh? And why would you do that?”

     Anna looked pointedly at the ceiling. “No reason at all.”

     “Anna, if _you_ don’t want me wandering around alone what makes you think I want _you_ wandering around alone?” Elsa sighed. “I don’t think he would try anything. He _just_ got here and he seems to actually want to negotiate. Attacking me or my family seems irrationally stupid, and I daresay he’s smarter than that.”

     “I don’t trust him,” Anna said plaintively. “And you really shouldn’t either. I’ll see you in two hours, I guess?”

     Elsa nodded and bid farewell to her little sister, then headed off in the direction of her study. Anna was being paranoid—weirdly so—Morokei would have to be out of his mind to launch an attack on Elsa or anyone in Arendelle, really.

     Well...it wasn’t like Skyrim was small. If he really wanted to try and overthrow and annex Arendelle, all he would really need to do would be remove her and Anna, and then have the armies of Skyrim move in, right? But what would be the point? He had said Arendelle held nothing that really interested him or the other priests…

 _Nothing except you_.

 

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Drem Yol Lok, Jud Konikrei_ \- "Peace Fire Sky", a traditional and formal Dovahzul greeting to one of equal or lesser status, followed by "Young Ice Queen". The proper word for Ice in Dovahzul is _Iiz_ ; young is _Goraan_. That sounds ridiculous, so I made up a new word, based on the German "Königin". 
> 
> _Raad_ \- Council*  
>  _Sonaak_ \- Dragon Priests. _Sonaak_ alone translates to simply "priest", but the general meaning is Dragon Priest. Placing _Dovah_ ahead of Sonaak is not necessary to denote a Dragon Priest.  
>  _Zeymah_ \- Brothers (formal, not necessarily blood relations)  
>  _Lahvu_ \- Army  
>  _Kendov_ \- Warriors, in this case he means his personal legion  
>  _Kulaas_ \- Princess  
>  _Dov_ \- Dragons, referring to the race as a whole, not an individual or group  
>  _Pruzah_ \- Good, that's good. In this case he means "okay"  
>  _dii Jud_ \- My Queen
> 
> All words marked with * are Dovahzuli words that I made up for the purpose of this story. 
> 
> Is Morokei an ass? Yes. Did he bewitch the councilors? Maybe.


End file.
